I bite my lower lip, anticipating a further journey south, only to jump when his phone chimes with an incoming text.
“Damn.” His low curse is barely audible, but it echoes my sentiments so exactly that I feel my core clench in response to the heat in his voice.
He pulls out his phone as I decide to finish what he started, rolling my hips as I press my fingertip where his was only moments before, then ease lower and lower, until I can slide my finger over my own slick folds.
“Naughty,” he says as he puts his phone away, then tugs my hand away to lead me toward the sofa as I whimper in protest.
“Was that Baxter?” I know that Hunter’s asked Baxter to look at the elevator video surveillance to locate Gabby before or after she attacked me. Since I’m still hoping that she didn’t, I’m hoping she won’t be there.
“It was Dr. Fields. He was right. Just a sedative, and one that’s quickly metabolized.”
“Thank God,” I say. “Pour me a drink.”
He laughs, and though I expect him to tell me to wait another day, he returns to the bar and complies. I guess under the circumstances, he figures I need it.
While he pours, I sit, cinching the robe as I do. As much as I want Hunter’s hands on me, right now, I want to know what’s going on even more.
“Have you thought about how to prove that Gabby’s Felicia? If she doesn’t admit it, I mean.”
“I’m hoping some of Randall’s DNA turns up,” he says. “If he stored any biological matter, it should be easy to test.”
“And if he didn’t?”
“Still possible. Felicia had a birthmark.”
I raise my brows. “Did she?” I can’t keep the amusement out of my voice. “So, where was this birthmark?”
“Jamie.”
“No, really. I’m very interested.”
“Her breast,” he says flatly.
“Ah.” I open the robe again, exposing my own breast. “Like here?” I brush the swell of my breast, which would easily be exposed in a simple scoop-neck T-shirt.
“No.”
“Here?” I slide my finger a few inches toward my nipple. Any dress that would reveal a mark there would definitely be considered daring.
“Jamie…”
“Or maybe here.” I trace my finger over my areola and watch as Ryan swallows. “Interesting place for a birthmark,” I say. “Kind of her to show you for confirmation.”
“Jamie, please.” He sets my drink on the table. “You know I—”
I burst out laughing, then take his hands and tug him down onto the couch beside me. Then I straddle him, my robe still open. I take his hand and close it over my breast, then draw in a sharp breath from his touch.
“I love you,” he says, taking his hand from my breast and replacing it with his mouth. I arch back, holding his shoulder with one hand as I use the other to tug on the robe’s sash and pull it all the way open. I’m naked beneath it, and as I slide forward, I feel the hard length of his cock straining against his slacks. I squirm, wanting to feel him—to feel us. Wanting to erase all of this craziness even if just for a moment.
Mostly, I want to feel Hunter inside me. I want him to claim me. I want to feel safe.
The last thought comes unbidden, and while it’s true, it also sparks a new flurry of questions. And though I want to push them aside in favor of the rising heat and my wild, demanding need, the question trips from my lips. “I still don’t get why she’d resurface,” I say as Hunter moves to kiss me.
His mouth closes hard over mine. “I… have… a few thoughts… on that,” he says, his words coming out breathy between his assault on my lips. He breaks the kiss long enough to look at me and say, “But can you please wait to hear them until after I fuck you?”
I nod, giddy, and he grabs my ass with one hand and supports my back with his other as he rises from the couch. I wrap my legs around him, and he carries me to the bedroom, then drops me, laughing, onto the bed. He wastes no time stripping, then climbs on top of me.
“Kitten,” he murmurs, only to curse when his work phone chimes. “Put it on speaker,” I say. Because we both know it’s either about Felicia—or it is her.
He’s breathing hard when he connects the call and says, “Hunter. What have you got for me?”
“It’s Baxter. I’ve been reviewing the footage on your floor surrounding the time of Jamie’s attack, and we found the incident. We have footage of the intruder manipulating the lock and entering.”
“And?”
“The intruder wasn’t a woman, sir. It’s most definitely a man.”
Chapter Fifteen
Hunter orders Baxter up to the suite, then ends the call. For a moment he says nothing. Then he leaves the bedroom. I hesitate, wanting to follow, but unsure what he needs right then. But then I tell myself, Fuck it. Because no matter what else, I know he needs me.
I find him standing in front of the closed balcony door, looking out at the London skyline. I ease up behind him and put my arms around his waist. For a moment, he simply stands there. Then he puts his hands over mine.
“It wasn’t Gabby,” I say.
“Maybe not. Or maybe it was, and she—Felicia—sent a man to the room.”
“Dammit, Ryan.” I release him, then move to his side, my body angled so that I can see both his face and his reflection in the glass. “I believe you, okay. She was Felicia, she went under, she came back up as Gabby.” I don’t like it, but I can’t logically argue it. Not after the phone thing. “But maybe there’s more to it than that.”
“Like what?”
I shrug, then move to the sitting area and park myself on the edge of the coffee table. “Maybe she wasn’t in intelligence. Maybe she just, somehow, survived. Maybe she had amnesia and only recently got her memory back. Maybe the dissidents were tracking her down. I don’t know. But maybe she’s not some stone-cold spy. Maybe she’s simply a girl who tried to carve out a new life.”
“Jamie…” He trails off, shaking his head as he walks toward me.
“No, don’t patronize me. I could be right. I mean, it’s a real possibility, isn’t it?”
“It’s a possibility. I don’t know how real.”
I take a deep breath, happy to have earned even that small concession. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’m certain Gabby wouldn’t hurt me. And now we know that she didn’t.”
“Not directly, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t pull the strings.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No.” Anger is firing in me again, but I’m not sure if it’s at him or at whoever drugged me. I don’t care. Honestly, it feels good to let it out. “I know her. And now you’re shoving her into this Felicia mold that you’ve constructed. You’ve built this Spy Felicia persona up, and you’re painting Gabby to be evil just so you can erase some of your goddamn guilt. Because if she manipulated it all back then, it means that none of it was your fault.”
He flinches and I recoil, unable to believe I actually said that.